


i won't let you choke

by Lobo_Loca



Series: IkeSoren drabbles [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Ike POV, Ike helps the best he can, Implied Self-Harm, M/M, Post-RD, Soren Has Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Which are vaguely alluded to but not explored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 16:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: The storms Soren weathered never showed, except the worst.





	i won't let you choke

**Author's Note:**

> On the implied self-harm tag: Soren has partially healed scratches on both his arms, which is heavily implied he did to himself. Mostly just welts, but some also some scabs. 
> 
> Soren's spent too much time surviving to seriously injure himself, but that boy has Lots of issues and no sense of healthy coping mechanisms.
> 
> Title from "The Cave" by Mumford & Sons.

Soren’s bad days were hard to spot, even for Ike.

Attitude wasn't a good indicator. Soren always spoke like a sword edge: sharp, biting, and a means to an end. He had little patience for anyone. Never liked to talk to much of anyone either. Always focused six steps ahead. _Now_ was a factor of _later_ as far as Soren was concerned most days.

He didn't hold himself any differently. The same ridged spine, still hands, and raised chin as ever. His robes weren't out of order. Hair pulled back loosely but neatly. Eyes as unreadable as always.

The storms Soren weathered never showed.

None, except the worst of the worst.

Just the smallest crack in miles of impenetrable walls, though. Easily missed at a distance. Even from up close, most overlooked it unless they knew every inch of the wall by heart and feel. Plastered over so quickly it seemed as if the crack had just been a trick of the light.

Most likely by design, Ike guessed. Anything resembling vulnerability was smothered or squirreled away for when Soren was alone.

Sometimes Soren would find Ike instead these days. Curl up just out of reach with a tome or maps without a word, and leave an hour or two later. But Soren did that on good days too. Neutral days as well, if he couldn’t find a quiet spot elsewhere.

In war, Ike had too many fires to put out and sword strikes to block to follow up on vanishing maybe-cracks, much less the privacy to do it.

But Ike had time now. There wasn't anybody around but Soren and Ike for at least a mile. Maybe more if the bandits they’d been paid to deal with had moved on already.

Ike waited until after dinner. When the sun had set and the moon started creeping across the sky and Soren twisted himself to get close to the fire to keep reading between shooting Ike looks that meant _go to bed already_ , Ike went to his tent and grabbed the bottle of moonshine and the cleanest roll of bandages before heading back.

Soren glanced up from his reading and scowled. “Stay up any later and you're going to fall asleep on watch. I don't know about you, but I would prefer not to wake up tentless, packless, and pantsless, if not dead besides.”

Ike shrugged. He slowly folded down next to Soren, careful to keep the bandages away from the ground.

“Did you manage to hurt yourself while I wasn't looking?” Soren asked, book snapping shut.

Ike said, “No.”

“You're holding a roll of bandages,” Soren said slowly, as though maybe Ike hadn't realized. “Generally you don't have those out unless you're going to use them in some form. And if you even think about tossing them into the fire as fuel, I will not hesitate to stuff your bedroll with poison ivy.”

“I'm not going to throw perfectly good bandages into a fire. They're expensive.”

“Then why…” Soren trailed off as he met Ike’s patient stare. Glancing away, Soren’s fingers twitched towards his sleeves.

Ike wanted to reach out and push up the sleeves himself. He held out the moonshine instead. “To disinfect. I can help with the bandaging. If you’d like me to.”

“I’m fine,” Soren said to the fire. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I think you made a mistake. Mistook or misheard something. Save the bandages and alcohol for when we actually need them.”

Ike looked at his hands. He could fight a lot of things. Physical things--things that could be fought with a sword and his own two hands. Lies were harder, but doable.

The demons curled tightly around Soren’s soul and mind? Not so much.

They needed to be soothed with words, pried away with gentle hands. Things Ike didn’t have. Things Ike didn’t know how to be.

But he was stubborn enough to try anyway. To reach out a hand, praying Soren would take it, would accept all Ike could offer to make Soren's storms a bit milder. And Ike wasn’t above playing dirty when it came to Soren.

“Please?” Ike asked. He wiggled the moonshine at Soren as Soren glanced over, for good measure.

Soren’s eyes darted over Ike’s face. After a long moment of staring at each other, Soren sighed and took the moonshine. “I still think this is a waste of our resources.”

“I know,” Ike said. “Thank you for doing it anyway.”

Soren carefully rolled up his sleeves, pale forearms streaked with faint red scratches. Five thin lines on each arm. Only a handful of tiny scabs where skin had just barely sundered. Better than Ike had feared when he’d seen blood drip from Soren’s wrist earlier.

Twisting the lid off, Soren poured the moonshine over his arms. The faintest twitch of an eyebrow betrayed the sting. Soren handed Ike back the bottle and shook out his arms, then held out his hand for the bandages.

Ike carefully unpinned the end of the roll. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to Soren's arms.

Soren froze. He blinked at Ike, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Baffled, Soren held out his right arm.

Ike scooted closer. He gently pressed the end of the bandage to Soren's wrist and slowly started to wrap Soren's forearm. Ike concentrated on maintaining the balance between tight enough not to be loose but not so tight it cut off circulation, reassured by the steady pulse under his fingertips. Even if it was a bit fast.

Just below the crook of Soren's arm, Ike tore the bandage off the roll and carefully tucked the tail in. Soren shifted and presented his left arm. Ike wrapped that one too, quietly efficient from years of doing it on himself and other mercenaries.

His hands lingered, thumb brushing along Soren's inner elbow. Soren shivered.

“Thank you for allowing me to help,” Ike said.

Soren pulled his arm away, rolling down his sleeves and looking back to the fire. “You say that like it's a privilege.”

“It is. ” Ike levered himself to his feet. “I am honored you trust me that much.”

Soren flushed red, and folded his hands over his book. "You're too simple-minded to even consider being treacherous."

Ike patted Soren's head and, when Soren didn't pull away, leaned down to press his lips to Soren's hair part. “Good night, Soren.”

“Good night, Ike,” Soren replied, staring at the thin strip of bandage peeking out from under the hem of his sleeve.


End file.
